Down With the Sickness
by SVOC Luva
Summary: Set in the 3rd season, not long after the episode Grotesque. Mulder is very sick and Scully looks after him, this fic should have at least three chapters.
1. Lets Go Home Mulder

Title: Down With the Sickness

Fandom: The X Files

Disclaimer: I do not own The X-Files or its characters, they belong to Chris Carter, 1013 productions, and Fox. David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson in a sense own Mulder and Scully as well because they bring the characters to life.

Summary: Set in the 3rd season, not long after the episode Grotesque. Mulder is very sick and Scully looks after him, this fic should have at least three chapters.

Dana Scully raised her warm blue eyes from her half of their latest expense report, eying her partner speculatively through curled lashes. The man in question sat perched on the edge of his office chair, half hunched over his desk as he seemingly tried to hack up a lung. She sighed, this was the third severe coughing fit he'd succumbed to, within the span of an hour, and when he wasn't coughing she could hear the deep rattling wheeze that had taken up residence in his chest some time between Friday evening, when she'd last seen him, and this very morning.

She studied him with concern, wondering whether or not he'd even bothered to treat what had undoubtedly been a nasty cold, over the course of the weekend. Knowing Mulder, with his complete lack of common sense concerning his health, probably not she surmised. As he coughed he made no attempt to cover his mouth, instead allowing his left hand to convulsively open and close around the armrest as if to anchor himself. He used his right hand to pluck at his tie in jerky spasmodic movements as if it was constricting his chest, therefore his ability to draw breath.

That in and of itself was all she needed to know; if his chest was bothering him enough that he would be incapable of successfully hiding his discomfort from anyone who might walk into their basement office then he needed to be home in bed at the very least. Scully would prefer he be checked out by a doctor, _her_ doctor, but she knew it would be like pulling teeth to convince him that he needed to go. She pushed herself away from her table, rising from her chair, and striding over to his side purposefully, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. She reached for him just as his coughing fit came crashing to a halt; she could feel an intense heat radiating from his body long before she made contact with his skin. He jumped when her hand settled on the exposed skin at the nape of his neck, her soft fingertips lightly grazing the short spiky hair there.

"Jesus, your hands are freezing Scully." he exclaimed, his voice cracking on a wheeze, as he ducked away from her touch. A full body shiver wracked his lean frame, and not the good kind.

"No Mulder, my hands aren't freezing, you my friend are burning up." she responded matter of factly.

"Nah. I feel fine, it's just a cold." he insisted, turning his chair around so he was facing her. He shot her a small smirk, it was a half-assed attempt to dissuade her at best, and his eyes lacked sincerity.

She stared at Mulder appraisingly, his beautiful hazel eyes were unfocused, glassy with fever, and there were dark circles under them. They stood out in stark relief against the pallor of his skin, and she found herself wondering absently when he'd last gotten at least four consecutive hours of sleep. His cheeks were flushed pink and his face pinched with pain and shining with a thick sheen of sweat, all sure signs of a fever. Scully raised one russet eyebrow, shooting him the look that sent most people running for the hills.

"Bullshit." she challenged. "Mulder you shouldn't have even come into work this morning you clearly have a fever!"

"I just didn't…" he mumbled, trailing off as he bowed his head. Whatever he'd intended to say he found embarrassing. She'd always found this particular habit of his peculiar. For someone so articulate when it came to everything else, he had a surprisingly difficult time expressing his needs. She supposed he wasn't used to being dependent on other people because he'd practically raised himself in the aftermath of Samantha's disappearance, and most likely he'd forgotten how to ask for what he needed. He probably only came into work today because he didn't feel like being alone, and she wasn't planning to leave him for a second.

Ever since that case with John Mostow and what happened with Bill Patterson she'd been worried about his well-being. He'd run himself ragged on that case and he still hadn't completely bounced back. She'd thought the X Files cases were hard on him, but they were nothing compared to what profiling did to him. She'd done some digging after that case, and suffice to say she now knew why he got the hell out of the ISU, and she can't say she blames him. Nope, not in the slightest.

The ISU had used him and abused him, preyed on his unadulterated compassion for the victims, sending him on case after case, with barely any respite to speak of. They'd used up all his reserves and it had nearly drove him over the edge into insanity, never mind the physical toll it'd had taken on him. If what she'd heard was correct it was always as bad if not worse than the Mostow case for him when he was profiling. He didn't eat, he barely slept, lived off of coffee, worked all hours -day and night- existed in limbo, and drove himself to physical and emotional exhaustion until the UNSUB was apprehended.

She was glad he wasn't profiling anymore, she couldn't imagine watching him go through that hell on a regular basis. She loved him, yeah she was ready to admit to herself that he was more than just her best friend, and God knows how she hated to see him hurting. Scully was so damn tired of ignoring the undeniable urge she had to look after him, so she gave into it. She put a hand to his forehead under the guise of checking his temperature, but in reality she hoped he would find her touch comforting. He leaned into the touch with none of his normal imperceptibility; for him to acquiesce to her affection so overtly, especially at the office he had to be feeling pretty awful.

"Alright Mulder, it's time to go home." Scully said. Pushing his sweat-soaked bangs off of his forehead with a tenderness he wasn't accustomed to being on the recieving end of.

Glassy gray-green eyes shot up and locked with clear cobalt-blue. "But Scully…" he whined, plaintively.

"Don't, But Scully me, Mulder." she huffed.

"But…" he started again.

"Mulder, quite frankly you look like shit! You need to be home resting." She interrupted, her voice tinged with exasperation.

"Thanks for the brutal honesty Scully." He replied sardonically, chuckling to himself in self-deprecation.

Her face softened slightly at that, and she spoke firmly but with care. "Mulder you need to take care of yourself. C'mon lets get out of here."

She nudged his shoulder to spur him on.

"Wait, what do you mean let's get of here?" he inquired. His dark eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Mulder you can't seriously think I'd let you drive yourself home in this condition." She replied incredulously.

He shrugged his shoulders, staring at her with consternation, before sighing dejectedly.

'_Jesus Christ. Had the man been on his own so long that just the __**idea**__ of someone bothering to look out for him while he was sick was so totally foreign?' _she wondered with ire. She wasn't angry _with_ him, but she was angry _for_ him. His parents hadn't deserved him, such a beautiful, brilliant son, and as far as she was concerned their reaction to him after Samantha's abduction was bordering on criminal. Mulder may not speak ill of either of them, but from the little she knew of his childhood they'd deserted him when he needed them most. Instead of cherishing the only child they had left, they'd turned away from him, leaving the fractured twelve-year-old to fend for himself.

Well he wasn't on his own anymore, he had her and she wasn't leaving him to fend for himself. No, never. "Mulder just let me call Skinner to tell him I'm taking you home, okay?" she said.

He nodded, mopping the sweat off his forehead with his shirt sleeve. She picked up the phone receiver, dialing the familiar number with nimble fingers. When Kim transferred the call to Skinner she filled him in on Mulder's condition and he agreed that it would be best if she brought the sick man home.

"C'mon Mulder we got the all clear from Skinner." She said softly.

He began to rise from his chair, and apparently he'd risen too quickly for the room swam before his eyes. He felt strangely off kilter and his stomach churned relentlessly. "Scully I think I'm gonna be sick." He whimpered. He then bolted across the hall into the men's bathroom.

She followed him at a more sedate pace, watching as he stumbled through the stall door, fell to his knees and began retching into the toilet bowl violently. As she came nearer he waved her off, not wanting her to see him like this, but she ignored him. It wasn't as if this was the first time she'd seen him vomit, she was very familiar with his post-nightmare routine and it usually included an unpleasant trip to the bathroom. She hunkered down behind him and began rubbing his back in a soothing circular motion. He leant back into the touch ever so slightly as his body convulsed through the dry heaves. She leant closer, still rubbing his back and began cooing nonsensical words of comfort in his ear.

When he finally finished heaving he slumped against the toilet seat in exhaustion, breathing with some difficulty. She got up and grabbed a few paper towels, wet them in the sink, and headed back over to Mulder. Scully hunkered down again, gently placing one paper towel on the back of Mulder's neck, to which he sighed gratefully. She then pulled him back to lean against her, and began tenderly washing away the perspiration that coated his deathly pale face. He leant into the coolness, shivering again.

"Alright Mulder, lets get you up off this cold and dirty floor." She spoke kindly, before helping him up.

He stood on shaky legs, swaying just slightly. Scully reached out, wrapping her right arm around his too slender waist in order to lend him some support. He'd lost some weight over the weekend she noted, which worried her because Mulder wasn't very big to begin with. You see, he had a runner's body, a swimmer's body, and a fast metabolism as well so when he stopped eating, for however brief a time, he became too thin.

She could feel his hip bones jutting out, and she knew if she were to wrap her arm around his midriff she'd be able to feel his ribs protruding. She had to get some meat on his bones, maybe she'd call her mother later. Maggie Scully was very fond of Fox Mulder, and Dana knew if she spoke to her mother about Mulder's illness there would be no stopping her from mothering the hell out of him. Yeah, she'll do just that, just as soon as he gets checked out by her PCP, Rob Fuller.

She knows Rob from med. school and if she were to trust anyone with Mulder's medical care it would be him. Now all she had to do was convince Mulder, which was no easy task mind you. She turned to look at him just as he shot her a grateful, but wan smile. Scully smiled back as he swung his left arm casually over her shoulder, doing his best not to lean on her too heavily. They steadily made there way out of the bathroom and headed in the direction of the elevator.

Fifteen minutes later found them at her car, and she walked him over to the passenger side door. He leant against the side of the car as she opened the door for him. Mulder slowly ducked into the car, slumped down in the seat and began struggling with the blasted seatbelt. Scully could clearly see his frustration, and eying him with affection she took the belt from his hand and buckled it into place herself. "Let me get that for you Mulder, okay?"

When he didn't rebuke her for doing something for him that he felt he was quite capable of doing himself, as per-usual, she was surprised. Then she noticed the sweat dotting his brow, his labored breathing, and his pinched expression and she realized why. She caressed his cheek sweetly. "Oh Mulder, you're miserable aren't you?"

He didn't respond to her words at first, just leant into her touch, but then he nodded, his delectable lower lip jutting out in the adorable pout she was now so familiar with. She hated that pout, but loved it at the same time, he commonly used it when she was angry with him and he was looking for forgiveness. That pout was usually coupled with those damn lost little boy eyes, and when he looked at her with that wounded expression she never could stay mad at him. She would never admit it to him nor anyone else, but she was a sucker for that look. She wondered what the other agents would say if they had any idea that all it took to make the Ice Queen melt was one doleful look from Spooky Mulder.

She leant down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, and his eyes shot wide open at that. He stared up at her with a look of such awe, such wonder that it nearly took her breath away. _'When was he last touched_ _with some tenderness? When was he last shown how much he was cared for? Cherished even?'_ she thought to herself with a pang. She had a feeling she was the only one, maybe besides her mother who'd bothered to in a long time. She pretended as if she hadn't noticed that look because she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, and she made her way over to the driver's side and got in the car. She turned the key in the ignition and started the car up, before slowly backing out of the parking space. "Mulder why don't you try to get some sleep." Scully suggested, eying her partner peripherally.

He nodded, acquiescing, and closing weary hazel eyes on a deep sigh.

When they finally reached her apartment in Georgetown she shook him awake, and he nearly scared the crap out of her when he bolted upright, hunched over and acceded to another coughing fit. She reached out patting his back in hopes of helping him to clear his lungs. He clearly had an upper respiratory infection and there was no way he was getting out of going to that doctors appointment now.

"Mulder," Scully said, when his coughing fit was over, " I want you to go to the doctor today. I'm going to make you an appointment, and I'll take you."

"I've already got my very own personal physician right here next to me." Mulder rasped, nodding in her direction.

"You, my friend are forgetting something extremely important here." Scully replied, her lips upturned in a small smile.

"Oh yeah, and what pray tell is that?" he questioned with a lopsided grin.

"Mulder I'm not a practicing doctor, all my patients are already dead. I perform autopsies." She reminded, not unkindly.

"I know that Scully, but I trust you, as a doctor, partner, and friend.", he responded earnestly.

"Mulder, I know that, but I'd feel much better if you were checked out by a practicing doctor. I feel that you have a respiratory infection and I'm worried about you contracting pneumonia, okay. I don't want you to end up in the hospital, it's better just to head things off before it gets any worse, plus I'll be there." Scully said, stating her case.

"Okay Scully, I capitulate, you win." Mulder said.

"Do my ears deceive me or is Fox William Mulder actually agreeing to see a medical professional." She quipped, with a sly smirk.

"Ha ha. I mean it okay, I trust you, and if you think I should go, I'll go. I don't want to end up in the hospital, you know I hate them. I figure going to the doctor's office is the lesser of two evils." he answered honestly, but with humor. "Plus I really do feel like shit."

She smiled at his sense of humor. "Thank you, now c'mon lets go, you can get some much needed rest, finally."

Mulder took a moment to look at his surroundings, realizing for the first time since he woke up that he wasn't in front of his apartment building, but Scully's. "Scully this is your place." Mulder said, stating the obvious.

"Yes, Mulder it is." Scully replied, with a grin, reaching out and ruffling his sweaty hair. "C'mon lets go upstairs."

TBC

Author's Note: Let me know if you want more, but I'll continue writing regardless of reviews, this story is pure self-indulgence.


	2. Unutterably Miserable

Title: Down with the Sickness

Fandom: The X Files

Disclaimer: I do not own The X-Files or its characters; they belong to Chris Carter and 1013 productions. David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson in a sense own Mulder and Scully as well because they bring the characters to life.

Summary: Set in the 3rd season, not long after the episode Grotesque. Mulder is very sick and Scully looks after him, this fic should have at least three chapters.

Chapter 2

Dana Scully puttered about her kitchen, grabbing two mugs from her cabinet and placing them on the countertop nearest to the stove. She placed two tea bags in them, and grabbed the milk from the fridge, settling it next to the two mugs before she turned to stare at the stovetop absently. She waited patiently for the kettle containing her and Mulder's tea water to let out an insistent wail signifying it was through being boiled. Her mind however was not focused on the boiling tea water so much as it was focused on the man watching television in her living room. When they'd arrived at her apartment Mulder had been slightly confused, but had chose not to question her on the subject, besides stating the obvious, "Scully this is your place."

After ruffling his sweaty hair she'd grabbed his overnight bag from the trunk, the one he always kept in there in case they were suddenly called away on a case, and insisted upon carrying it up to her apartment. He'd protested vehemently, insisting that she needn't carry it because he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, but thankfully one raised eyebrow and her infamous glare was all it took to convince him to relent. This action in and of itself only cemented in her mind how damn awful he must be feeling, and she was sure she was taking the right course of action by bringing him to her place. As they'd made there way to the entrance of her building, she'd once again supported him around the waist, and allowed him to wrap his arm around her shoulder. Even the short walk to the door had caused his condition to deteriorate, he'd gone completely ashen, almost translucent, in her opinion, and he'd wheezed harshly on every intake of breath. Once she'd gotten him into her building she'd steered him toward the elevator, there was no way he could've made it up the three flights of stairs it took to reach her apartment.

In the elevator's bright interior he'd extracted himself from her, not wanting her to bear the burden of his added weight, and leaned back in the closest corner to the door. He'd turned his head to the side, leaning his cheek against the cool wall of the elevator, shivering slightly, his breathing labored. She'd watched as he'd closed his eyes against the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, and saw the rivulets of sweat trailing from his hairline to his jaw. When the elevator had dinged its arrival at their stop she'd reached for him, and led him across the hall to her apartment. She'd shuffled in front of the door as she'd struggled to extract her keys from her coat pocket, for Mulder had been pressed against her side and not at all aware of what was going on around him. After finally having gotten the correct key into the lock she'd twisted the door open with as much ease as she'd been able to manage, and led her sick partner inside. She'd guided him into the kitchen and pushed him to sit down in one of her chairs. He'd sat slumped in his seat, tired gray-green eyes studying her through those long thick lashes; lashes almost any women would be jealous of.

He'd then muttered in a rather raspy voice, "You don't have to take care of me you know. I don't expect you to."

Her rosebud lips had upturned in a sad smile. "I know you don't Mulder, you've been taking care of yourself for a long time, but there's nothing wrong with letting someone else take over for a while. You're pretty sick partner, and I don't want to leave you alone to fend for yourself, I think you could use a little TLC. And Mulder before you start thinking otherwise I don't pity you and I don't feel obligated to look after you. I just care."

Mulder's full lips had turned up in a sad smile of his own. "You know me too well Scully." he'd mumbled tiredly, but not without humor.

"And don't you forget it." Scully had responded with amusement.

He watched her through half-lidded eyes, the smile still on his face when his eyes finally fluttered closed in exhaustion. She'd reached out, pushing his sweat-soaked bangs off his too pale forehead in a gentle upward motion, and found herself surprised at the degree of heat emanating from him. "Mulder you're even hotter than you were earlier." she'd declared, her voice tinged with worry.

"Thank you for noticing Scully." he'd leered, trying to lighten the mood.

"Smartass." she'd groused good-naturedly. _'If he's gracing me with his usual brand of humor than he must not be too bad off.'_ she'd thought to herself with relief.

"Stay right here Mulder, I'm just going to get the thermometer and some aspirin."

"I'll be here Scully."

She'd been back a moment later both aspirin and thermometer in hand, but Mulder, who'd fallen into a light doze didn't hear her approach and was startled when she'd shoved his shoulder lightly. He'd flinched away from her touch violently, his fever bright eyes snapping open and searching the room wildly, before finally settling on her. She'd spoken to him in a soothing voice, for his breathing was rapid and shallow and she'd needed to calm him down so he didn't hyperventilate on her. "It's alright Mulder, it's me Scully, and you're at my apartment, remember. You're safe, you're okay I won't let anything happen to you. Now I want you to breathe carefully, slow deep breaths, that's it Mulder. Good, that's good."

She'd continued to instruct him in his breathing, coaching him to match her measured breaths. After a few minutes he'd gotten his breathing back under control, and averted his eyes in embarrassment and probably a little in fear of her possible reaction. "I'm sorry." he'd murmured weakly.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Mulder." she'd reassured, eying him with a thinly-veiled sadness. She'd seen him react that way to unexpected touch before but it never ceased to make her feel melancholy, she'd wondered, and not for the first time what horrors he'd had to go through in childhood to make him recoil that way. '_To be totally honest I'm not sure I want to know, but if it would help him to talk I'd be there for him in a heartbeat.'_ she'd thought to herself.

After shaking off her reverie she'd spoken to him soothingly. "Lets check your temperature now Mulder."

He'd watched her through half-lidded eyes before opening his mouth to welcome the thermometer, seemingly too tired to make the effort to reach out and take it from her. Not pausing in her actions, she'd stuck the thermometer into his mouth, holding it there waiting for the annoying beep indicating his temperature had been read. When it had gone off she'd slid the thermometer from his mouth and glanced at the screen, he'd had a temperature of 103.5 degrees. She'd been worried about him, given how high his fever was during the day it would undoubtedly spike by nightfall.

'_I need to make that call to Rob swiftly so he can find some time in his busy schedule to squeeze Mulder in. Then it would be best to get Mulder in the tub, a bath will hopefully, along with the aspirin lower his fever, and I should grab the humidifier from the closet and put it in the bathroom because that should help clear his lungs.' _she'd thought to herself, concerned.

She'd taken a deep calming breath before turning her attention to Mulder, speaking in a soothing tone of voice. "Mulder your fever's pretty high, I'm going to have you take some aspirin, and then I'll draw you a bath, it should in all likelihood lower that fever."

His previously closed eyes had sluggishly opened at that, a sliver of bright green peeking out at her through those gorgeously long lashes of his. "A bath?" he'd rasped weakly, his tone incredulous and his brow furrowed.

She'd raised one russet eyebrow at his question, and responded pragmatically. "Yes Mulder a bath, I really don't think you're up to standing under the shower spray.'

Even through his exhaustion he'd managed a small sheepish smile. "Yeah a shower's not such a good idea I'd probably pass out." he'd spoken softly, an odd expression she couldn't quite place plastered across his face.

She'd shot him a sweet smile, before moving to get him a glass of water so he could swallow the aspirin. Then she'd moved back over to him, placing the glass of water on the table, before picking up the bottle of aspirin and twisting the cap off. She'd tapped two pills out into the palm of her hand and turned toward Mulder. His eyes had still been slivers of bright green, eying her with utter exhaustion. Instead of placing the pills in his hand, she'd pressed them to his lips and he'd then opened his mouth to receive them. After that she'd grabbed the glass of water off the table and put it to his lips, helping him take a few sips to wash down the aspirin. When he'd finished swallowing his eyelids were shielding those fever bright eyes again and he'd leaned his head against the back of the chair in lassitude. "Mulder I'm going to draw you a bath now, stay right here." she'd voiced, her concern showing despite her attempts to conceal it.

Ten minutes later she'd been back in front of Mulder's chair, speaking softly so as not to startle him. "Mulder c'mon wake up your bath's ready."

When she'd seen his eyelids start to flutter, dark eyelashes kissing flushed cheeks she'd reached out, brushing back that stubborn lock of hair that always seemed to fall across his forehead despite his efforts to tame it. He'd opened his eyes slowly, leant into her touch, and smiled warmly at her. "Time to get up?" he'd inquired, his voice crackling.

"Yes Mulder, your bath's ready." she'd responded, backing away so he had plenty of room to stand. He'd risen slowly, not wanting a repeat of what had happened at the office, but despite his efforts the rush of dizziness overtook him anyway. He'd swayed, pitching forward slightly, and Scully had reached out to steady him. Mulder had held onto her like a man who was drowning, his long slender hands clamping down on her arms in a white-knuckled grip, and he'd gone completely ashen again, the flushed cheeks he'd been sporting not even a minute before alarmingly absent. His deathly pale face had expressed such haggardness and his breathing was once again rapid and shallow. He'd succumbed to another coughing fit, a deep wet hacking that was over before she'd expected it to be. She'd pulled him to her when it was through, until he was standing so close that there was only a miniscule amount of space between them, he'd felt like a furnace against her markedly cooler skin. He'd slumped against her in exhaustion and she'd staggered as the majority of his weight settled on her. Using her quick reflexes to her advantage she'd managed to keep the both of them upright, her hands at his waist, his hands gripping her upper arms, and his forehead resting on her shoulder. He'd been mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, "I'm sorry Scully, sorry, sorry, sorry. Don't be mad; please don't be mad, I promise I'll be better. Promise."

She'd bristled at those words, her body stiffening as her earlier anger at his parents came roaring back with a vengeance. Had they seriously made him feel guilty for being sick, she could not even begin to imagine her parents doing such a thing, but clearly her parents were overwhelmingly different than Bill and Teena Mulder concerning their philosophies on raising children, in a decidedly good way. She'd forced herself to relax not wanting him to think she was angry with him, because that was the last thing Mulder had needed right then. She'd then started rubbing his back in a circular motion, trying to reassure him, but it wasn't working quite as well as she'd hoped. He'd continued to mumble words of contrition into her shoulder, his hands convulsively clutching her arms in anxiety, so she'd turned her head to the right so her lips were right next to his ear and spoke softly, soothing his frazzled nerves. "Shh shh sweetheart, I'm not mad at you, there's no reason to be. Honey your sick, it's not your fault you can't control your body's reaction to the infection. It's not your fault, not your fault at all."

'_Sweetheart? Honey? Since when do you use endearments in regards to your partner Dana?' _she'd berated herself. '_Since you heard him pleading for you not to be angry with him, that's when.'_ some part of her supplied helpfully. _'Oh well, there's nothing you can do about it now, here's to hoping he doesn't remember.' _

Thankfully her words had the intended affect on him, he'd calmed, his hands relaxing against her, and his mumbled apologies tapering off. "C'mon lets get you in that tub." she'd said calmly, adjusting him so her arm was once again wrapped around his waist, and his arm was thrown over her shoulder.

She'd lead him over to the bathroom, guiding him to sit down on the closed toilet seat. He'd struggled to stay upright, he was just so damn tired, and all he wanted to do was go to sleep and not wake up for a week. "Mulder can you slip your suit jacket off?" Scully had asked kindly.

Mulder had nodded, but a few minutes later he had still been struggling to extract himself from the jacket. Eventually he'd given up, slumping in his seat, resting his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands, with a dejected sigh. When she'd called to him to get his attention he'd took his head out of his hands and looked up at her with an expression that could only be described as unutterably miserable. "Hang on a second honey; I'm just going to grab the thermometer I want to check your temp. again." she'd said, more worried than she'd been before, the endearment slipping out without her even noticing.

She'd grabbed the thermometer from the kitchen along with his bag so he'd have something to change into after his bath, and then made her way back to the bathroom. She'd stuck the thermometer in his mouth again, waiting for the beep with an impatience that was atypical of her. When the damn thing finally beeped she removed it from his mouth, and looked to the screen with apprehension, it had read 104.7 degrees. With a heavy sigh she'd moved over to him and began helping him out of his jacket, when she was done taking that off she'd coaxed him to raise his arms above his head. She'd gently taken the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, rumpling his dark hair unintentionally. Scully had run her hand through it briefly, which had only served to tousle it even more, before bending down to take off both his shoes and socks. She'd then moved onto the pants and managed to get them off with some difficulty, seeing as Mulder wasn't much help at that moment. She'd kept the boxers on, not that Mulder cared much about modesty at the time, but she'd figured if he was more aware of what was going on around him he'd be more comfortable with them on. After that she'd reached out, grabbing him by the arms so she could pull him up from the toilet seat and guide him over to the tub, his skin had been hot and dry to the touch, which increased her worry. She'd helped him step into the tub on shaky legs, and held him steady as he lowered himself into the water. He'd started shivering fairly quickly, goose bumps spreading over the expanse of his bare skin. Mulder had turned to her, his teeth chattering loudly, his green-gold eyes glassy with fever, and spoke weakly. "Scu… Scully it's cold."

"No Mulder it's not really cold, your fever's too high, so the heat in your body makes it feel cold. You just have to stay in for ten minutes okay." she'd explained gently.

He'd nodded, before bringing his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his shins, and resting his chin on his knees. She'd left the bathroom, moving across the hall to the linen closet and grabbed a towel and a wash cloth. She'd been back before he'd even realized she was gone, settling down beside the tub again. She'd wet the wash cloth, and then began running it up and down his back gently, then along his arms, over his knees. Next, she'd reached for his face, gently grabbing his chin and turning it so that he was facing her; she'd bathed his face gently keeping up a steady stream of light conversation so he had something to focus on. After that she'd cupped some water in the palm of her hand and used it to wet his hair; then she'd started the ritual from the beginning again. She'd continued doing this for the remainder of those ten minutes, at the end of which he'd become more alert. She'd felt comfortable enough to leave him alone to get dressed, and he'd come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, clad in a navy blue t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and thick socks; his dark hair sticking up every which way from when he'd toweled it dry. She'd watched him walk towards her slowly, while she'd set that appointment up with Rob, and had used their silent form of communication to indicate to him that he should go lie down on the couch, make himself comfortable. He'd nodded and turned toward the living room.

Not long after that she'd wrapped up the phone call with Rob, who'd agreed to take a look at Mulder, just like she'd known he would and then she'd called her mother. Leaving a brief message on the machine, she'd told her mother that Mulder was sick, and asked her to give her a call when she got the message. She'd known her mother would, Maggie Scully loved Fox Mulder like he was one of her own, and would probably insist on making him some homemade soup, and coming over to make sure he ate every last bit of it herself. Not for the first time Scully wondered what had transpired between the two of them while she'd been missing, all she'd been able to get out of her mother was that _**Fox**_ had been there to support her through the difficult time, that he'd been quite a mess himself, and relentless in his search for her. She hadn't even tried to broach the subject with Mulder, sensing somehow that he wouldn't respond well to that line of questioning. After she'd shaken herself out of her reverie, she'd called out to Mulder. "Mulder would you like a cup of tea?"

"Yes please." he'd called back, his voice all crackly, before he'd broken down in another coughing fit.

When it finally let up she'd asked loudly, "You okay in there Mulder."

She'd heard him gasp a few times before he'd managed to croak out in that weak raspy voice, "I'm fine Scully."

She'd taken his word for it, that was just a few minutes ago, and now hear she was waiting for the tea kettle to announce the water was done boiling, hearing only the muted sounds of the television coming from the other room. Finally there it was, the insistent wail of the tea kettle letting her know the water was ready. She grabbed the kettle off the stovetop, the wail trailing off as she used her other hand to turn off the back burner, and then she set about making the tea. When she was through she put the milk away, and threw the tea bags in the trash, before grabbing both cups of tea off the countertop, and heading into the living room.

The sight that greeted her there brought a rare grin to her face, Mulder was lying down at the far end of the sofa, sprawled out, looking for all the world like a little boy that had exhausted himself from a hard day of play. His head was resting haphazardly on one of her throw pillows; his still damp hair rumpled adorably, that one stubborn lock falling across his forehead, and the rest of it sticking up all over the place. His long lashes fell like crescent moons on flushed cheeks, and that full lower lip was sticking out in the all familiar pout. In sleep he looked so young, all that weariness etched across his face during the waking hours was melted away, and he looked all of five years old, the sweatpants only adding to that appearance. She didn't know how he managed it, but despite the fact that he was sick, the deep rattling wheeze in his chest heard all too clearly he still radiated this tranquility that she'd never seen in him while awake, and probably never would.

He stirred some, shivering, seemingly cold, before settling again and snuffling something unintelligible. She smiled warmly, moving to grab her throw from her arm chair. Scully walked back over to him, settling the blanket over his still form, making sure it covered his feet, and then moving up to his head, tucking the blanket under his chin. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead, he was still too hot for her liking, but at least his temperature wasn't bordering on 105 degrees anymore. He grunted a little in his sleep, and she found herself grinning down at him again, he was simply adorable. Deciding to indulge herself a little she ran her fingers through his unruly hair, it was so thick and soft, silky, she'd never felt such soft hair on a man before. He seemed to enjoy her ministrations for he pushed head up into her hand, reminding her of a kitten, and sighed contentedly as she continued running her finger through the silky strands. She bent down and kissed his forehead tenderly, deciding that she'd let him sleep for a few minutes before she had to wake him so they could make it to that appointment with Rob.

She sat down in her arm chair, sipping her cup of tea and watching her partner sleep peacefully for what was probably the first time in months.

TBC…

AN: I hope you enjoyed this. Sorry for the long wait, medical issues and schoolwork have been keeping me pretty busy. Let me know what you think.

Thanks,

Alaina


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